Please tell me I'm not what he tells me I am
by noel-cullen
Summary: A sweet, sad, one-shot Drarry. Rated M for mild language....possible sequel if you all like it!


HPOV

I was sitting by the window in our dorm, letting cool air wash over me. It was 3 o'clock in the morning; I couldn't sleep. Didn't want to sleep, to see _his_ face, to hear _his_ voice. Stupid Voldemort. Merlin, how I wanted him dead already; not the least of which reason was – I WANTED TO SLEEP!

As I sat there, fuming, an owl swooped down out of the darkness. I barely stifled my shriek in time; recovering, I took the single piece of parchment from the little brown bird, and curiously read the lines penned in a bold, elegant print,

"Please tell me I'm not what he tells me I am. Please tell me I'm not worthless, tell me that somebody cares that I grow up to be better than him. Please tell me I didn't just fuck up the most important decision of my life, choosing my own thoughts over blind ignorance and loyalty. Please, someone answer me."

DPOV

I was sitting by the window in my private room, letting the cold air numb me. My shaking had finally stopped, but had morphed into sobs, sobs that came from a place deep inside me that wouldn't stop screaming, that refused to stop hurting. I had really done it. Fa…Lucius was going to take me to be initiated, to take the Dark Mark, and I refused. I dueled him, the ultimate insult, and barely got away as he shot curse after deadly curse after me, torturing me with those as much as his cruel words, which are worse. They've always been worse; they've always mattered more. No matter how much I tried to combat his negative assertions about me, it never quite worked. A little part of me always feared, always whispered, "He's right, you know. You're nothing, you're worthless, you'll never amount to anything." And I hated it. Hated that I was so screwed up – hated that he screwed me up. Hated that it still hurt so fucking bad – his rejection.

All of a sudden, Diana showed up out of nowhere. My little brown owl hopped onto the windowsill, cocking her head at me as if asking, "What's wrong?" But she couldn't reply even if I told her.

Or could she? On a mad impulse, I scribbled out a paragraph of stream-of-consciousness.

"Please tell me I'm not what he tells me I am. Please tell me I'm not worthless, tell me that somebody cares that I grow up to be better than him. Please tell me I didn't just fuck up the most important decision of my life, choosing my own thoughts over blind ignorance and loyalty. Please, someone answer me."

And I gave it to Diana, hoping stupidly for a reply.

HPOV

Wow. It didn't sound remotely like anyone I knew, so I guessed the letter wasn't intended for me. Yet, it also sounded like the author was desperate, like he or she needed someone, anyone, to affirm a little belief in them. And didn't I know what that was like? In moments of doubt, whose voice did I hear? Vernon, that bastard, telling me what a worthless piece of shit I was. Biting my lip, I grabbed a quill and quietly scratched an answer.

"You are your own person – not who he tells you you are. _You_ define you; he doesn't. You're not worthless – you have value. And if you chose wisdom over ignorance, I don't know how your decision could have been wrong. I don't know who you are, but I'd be willing to meet and talk if you need – or want – to."

I don't know what made me add that last bit – it was unnecessary, I supposed, but now I was curious. And…I felt bad for the person. They sounded like they deserved some comforting – and I knew what it was like to go without any.

DPOV

Twenty minutes later, I was still sitting by the window. My sobbing had slowed to bitter, trickling tears that stung my eyes more than the sobs had. I hated my life, my family's views, hated the hate – it was a never-ending cycle.

And then Diana came back. Shocked, I opened the paper with trembling hands.

""You are your own person – not who he tells you you are. _You_ define you; he doesn't. You're not worthless – you have value. And if you chose wisdom over ignorance, I don't know how your decision could have been wrong. I don't know who you are, but I'd be willing to meet and talk if you need – or want – to."

I cried harder. It was ridiculous, but it felt so good, like a hot shower after a windy Quidditch game. Someone was out there, someone cared! And they'd even offered to meet me – an offer I suddenly burned to take advantage of. Who was this person? I needed to know - now.

"Meet me at the top of the Astronomy Tower, in thirty minutes."

HPOV

My legs were burning as I reached the top of the tower. I was more than a bit surprised that the person wanted to meet _now_, as I had meant sometime in the future, but what the hell. I wouldn't be able to get back to bed anyway, and they needed help. I flung the door open only to see someone I hadn't even thought of – I know my jaw dropped.

Draco Malfoy. But this Draco Malfoy looked far more like Draco, the little boy, than Malfoy, my contemporary enemy. He looked fragile, his paleness in the moonlight almost making him look transparent, like he could fade away and the world would be the same. Only, that was probably how he was feeling…oh, Merlin. I had no idea what to say.

DPOV

Harry fucking Potter. _HE_ was the one Diana had taken my letter to!? My arch-enemy and rival,Golden-Boy-never-do-wrong-Potter. Only…he looked different. Softer, almost…sad. And he _had_ replied to me with just the right words when I needed it. Needed him. So I said, "Thank you."

He nodded. "You did the right thing, Malfoy. You are better than he is, if you chose not to serve Voldemort."

I swallowed. This was it – doing it and admitting to Potter, of all people, were two entirely different things. This would cement it in a different way….and suddenly, I was ready to declare it. "I did. I won't serve a monster like him."

He grinned. "Then I guess you're going to be serving me, huh?"

I glared at him out of reflex before he put up his hands defensively, "Kidding, Malfoy, only kidding."

"Oh." I said, feeling like an idiot. Potter yawned, obviously exhausted, dark circles and all.

"If you're okay, I'm going back to bed." He said, looking at me questioningly.

"Yes, of course." I said hurriedly, realizing the sky was lightening, and people would wake soon.

"By the way,"He said, pausing in the doorway, "You're not what he told you you are. You're more than you know."

I stared at him, smiling slowly, "Thank you, Potter. That…means a lot, coming from you."

He smiled a small smile back, and left.


End file.
